


now take it in but don't look down

by defcontwo



Series: walls crashing down (or: the one with the dog) [2]
Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-17
Updated: 2013-11-17
Packaged: 2018-01-01 21:25:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1048730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/defcontwo/pseuds/defcontwo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jason blinks awake, eyes crusted over and mouth fuzzy, the dim light streaming in through the curtains letting him know that the sun has barely started to rise yet. Tim is curled behind him, hands shoved up the inside of Jason's thin Gotham Knights t-shirt. Or: the start to a very good day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	now take it in but don't look down

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stitchingatthecircuitboard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stitchingatthecircuitboard/gifts).



> Written for stitch off of the prompt: jason todd has a good day. a phenomenal day. THE BEST DAY EVER AND NOT IN A TRAGIC END-OF-UTRH WAY. A GENUINELY HAPPY WONDERFUL DAY WITH HUGS AND TEA AND WATCHING SOME SILLY MOVIE AND MAYBE PLAYING FETCH WITH TACO OR SOMETHING. A REALLY HAPPY DAY. 
> 
> Set distantly after the end of "your time will come."

Jason blinks awake, eyes crusted over and mouth fuzzy, the dim light streaming in through the curtains letting him know that the sun has barely started to rise yet. Tim is curled behind him, hands shoved up the inside of Jason's thin Gotham Knights t-shirt. 

Jason shifts and peers over the edge of the bed to see Taco looking up at him expectantly, before she leans over and bumps him in the nose with her snout.

"We gotta teach you how to use the toilet or something," Jason mutters, moving to get out of bed. 

"My furnace is leaving, why is my furnace leaving," Tim says and Jason turns around onto his back, shifting to face him. 

"Technically, it's your turn to take her out, you lazy ass." 

Tim shakes his head, eyes still firmly closed. "Your dog." 

"Oh sure, she's _my_ dog at 5 in the morning in the dead of winter but she's your dog when you're trying to get her to respond to _Nyota_." 

"It's her name now, she likes it better," Tim says. Jason huffs a laugh, reaching over to poke Tim in the nose. Do unto others as your weird, boundaries-ignoring dog does to you and all that. 

"I'm not getting out of bed," Tim says, "so don't even bother. It's a Sunday and it's ten fucking degrees outside." 

Jason bites back a whine at the thought of it. But -- well, Tim and cold don't exactly mix well so he guesses it's gonna have to be him. 

Taco barks, loud and sharp. 

"Ugh, goddamnit, fine," Jason says, pushing the covers aside and hopping out of bed. Tim crows triumphantly before reaching for the blankets and pulling them around him, cocooning himself in the middle of the bed. 

"I really hate you right now," Jason says, shucking on a pair of sweatpants, casting his eyes around the room to look for his boots. 

"I can't hear you over the sound of how warm I am right now," Tim says, voice muffled by the blankets. 

Jason casts the lump of blankets one last disgusted look before shrugging into his jacket and tugging on his combat boots and heading out into the kitchen, Taco following closely at his heels. He hooks her up to her leash and grabs his keys off the kitchen counter, taking a deep sigh to brace himself before opening the door. They take the stairs to the first floor, Jason already shivering in the drafty stairwell, as Taco impatiently tugs on the leash to get him to go faster. 

"All right, all right," Jason says, pushing a hand through his sleep-mussed hair as he nudges the door to outside open with his hip. "We're almost there, you drama queen." 

A neighbor waves at him as she walks by and Jason gives a tight, awkward smile back. He knows he must look ridiculous, curly hair sticking up in all directions, wearing sweatpants with combat boots and a giant cargo coat that he got from the Goodwill store. 

"Come on, Taco, hurry it up already," Jason mutters, shifting his weight from one foot to the other in an effort to keep warm. Taco finishes her business and tugs at the leash, running for the door. 

"Yeah, now you're cold, fuck," Jason mutters, running after her as the two of them head through the door and run up the stairs. When they're finally inside, Jason sheds his jacket and dumps it in a pile in the middle of the kitchen table and then winces, realizing that Tim's terrible organization habits have started rubbing off on him. 

He'd be more concerned about it but he's too fucking cold to think of anything outside of feeding Taco as quickly as possible so he can get back to bed as quickly as possible. 

"I hope you're happy now," Jason says to her, and she shoves him out of the way to get at her food bowl, which Jason takes as a yes as he snorts and shuffles back towards the bedroom, toeing his boots off just beside the door. 

Inside, the mass of blankets shift. 

"You gonna make room for me in there or are you gonna hog it all to yourself?"

"Gonna hog it all to myself," Tim replies. 

"Spoiled rich boy," Jason grumbles, reaching a hand out to grab at the edge of the blankets with a mind to pull them all off of Tim but before he can, Tim snakes a hand out from beneath the blankets and grabs hold of Jason's wrist and _pulls_ causing Jason to fall awkwardly forward on top of him on the bed, the blankets settling somewhere over their heads. 

"You are such a little shit, you know that?" 

Tim hums. "So you've told me. Many, many times." 

Tim's fingers ghost the edge of the waistband on Jason's sweatpants, his callous-roughened hands slowly working their way down. Jason braces himself up on both arms, hanging his head down to press a light kiss to Tim's mouth. "Oh, so is that how this morning's gonna go?" 

Tim smiles, sharp and sly. "Are you saying no to the warm, grateful blowjob?" 

"No, uh, definitely not," Jason breathes out. 

"Good," Tim says, before he pushes at Jason's shoulder, toppling down and over onto his back on the mattress and then Tim is tugging down his sweatpants, pressing warm, sloppy kisses to every inch of exposed skin and Jason twists his fingers into the sheets, laughs at the look on Tim's face that is equal parts smug and devious and there is so much that is twisted up inside of him but on days like this, in moments like this, he can let himself go so he does. He lets himself go and he lets this beautiful, ridiculous, annoying boy make him scream so loud the neighbors can hear. 

"This better be good, I was freezing my balls off out there," Jason says and he expects the pinch to his thigh, the exaggerated eye roll, the huff of "ungrateful jerk" because it's part of their process, by now, and he likes that -- he likes that they have a process, a routine that he knows by heart and never tires of, A to B to _fuck yes, right there_. 

Yeah, definitely worth the cold. 

\--- 

Later, after, when they are both sated and wrung out, sprawled across the bed with limbs entangled and riding the high, Tim props his head up on one hand and gives Jason a thoughtful, assessing look. It's his Faux Detective Face, the face that Tim puts on when he wants you to think that he's giving something a lot of thought but really he's probably daydreaming about making out with Captain Picard or some shit like that. 

"Yes?" Jason asks. 

"I'm hungry," Tim says simply. 

"Is that a hint for me to make breakfast?" 

Tim arches an eyebrow. "I mean, do you want me to make breakfast?"

Jason shudders. "No. Definitely not." 

The memory of Tim accidentally setting the stove on fire trying to make soup comes sharply to mind. 

"Pancakes?" 

Tim nods. "With chocolate chips." 

Jason mock gasps. "Heavens no! Timothy Wayne demands chocolate chip pancakes? Quick, someone alert the presses." 

Tim rolls his eyes, leaning down to bite at Jason's shoulder, teeth scraping against smooth, scarred skin. "Asshole." 

"And then?" 

"What?" 

"What comes after pancakes?" Jason asks, leaning over to drag a hand through Tim's messy, sleep-greased hair. 

Tim lifts a shoulder in a half shrug. "We could…go for a walk?" 

"Yeah, okay, cry baby," Jason scoffs, thinking of how Tim spent a greater part of the night before complaining about the cold winter weather. "Pull the other one. What do you really want to do today?" 

"Twilight Zone marathon?" 

Tim's got a Netflix account that neither of them take the time to use and they've had the Twilight Zone queued up for months, never quite getting the time to dig into it. He feels a twitch at the thought of doing nothing all day, nothing constructive, anyways when there are cases to work through and always, always shit to be done in Gotham but, well -- it's been a long week and an even longer month and maybe this time, he's earned it. 

"Yeah, okay. Twilight Zone marathon it is."


End file.
